


Ladies Who Lunch

by Ellidfics



Series: Captain Fraudulent:  The Outtakes [48]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, SHIELD, STRIKE Team Alpha, The Avengers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:27:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22678720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellidfics/pseuds/Ellidfics
Summary: Sharon Carter is still walking on air after taking her relationship with Steve Rogers to the next level.   According to a friend, though, she should be careful....
Relationships: Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers
Series: Captain Fraudulent:  The Outtakes [48]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/44015
Comments: 19
Kudos: 51





	Ladies Who Lunch

**Author's Note:**

> This is set between "The First Cut is the Deepest" and "Sloppy Seconds."

“Well. Someone looks happy,” said Rodriguez as Sharon slid into the chair opposite hers. It was a mild March morning, the city air softened by the first hints of spring. “Good weekend?”

Sharon couldn’t hold back the grin. “That obvious?”

Rodriguez snorted. “Shouldn’t have tied your hair back if you wanted to hide the hickey, Sharon,” she said, elegantly sipping her drink as Sharon flushed. She’d been certain she’d covered the delicate bruise just below her left ear, but clearly she’d been wrong. “How’s he doing? Looked pretty rocky the last time I saw him at HQ.”

“He’s fine.” Sharon waited as the server set down a cocktail napkin and made a show of positioning her wine glass and a pour of something white and dry. Then she grinned again. “Absolutely fine.”

“Better than fine, if you’re any guide.” Rodriguez paused as the waitron returned to take their order. L’Hiver was new, quiet, and far enough away from HQ to avoid having someone they knew walk in – Rodriguez’s idea, which struck Sharon as excessively cautious, even for a spy.

Then again, Rodriguez _had_ said that whatever was going on was important.

“That’s one way of putting it.” Sharon tasted her drink and hummed in appreciation. Normally she didn’t touch alcohol this early in the day, but one glass of wine with lunch wouldn’t hurt. “Best weekend in months. Maybe longer.”

Rodriguez fingered the stem on her own glass, a small, sly smile playing about her lips. “About time. I thought you were never going to jump those excellent bones.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. Enough people had given her funny looks for being Steve’s plus-one at the inaugural ball and after that she automatically bristled. “That is not exactly what – “

“Relax, Sharon. I’m not asking for all the juicy details,” said Rodriguez. She waited until the hostess had led two office workers on their lunch hour past their table to a seat near the rear. “I asked you here for a reason, and it’s not to quiz you about your personal life.”

Sharon slowly set down her drink. It was good wine, but suddenly she wasn’t interested. “I’d wondered about that. You normally don’t call me, period, let alone on my personal phone.”

Rodriguez had the grace to look uncomfortable. “I’m not proud of that, Sharon. I should have kept in touch with you after we graduated from the Academy. I’m sorry.”

“It happens.” Sharon shrugged. “I don’t think any of us got the same duty assignment, probably deliberately if I know Nick Fury. Same thing with college - I barely see any of my buddies from back then even though half of them live in New York.”

“No, it’s more than that,” said Rodriguez, voice low and intense. She leaned forward, one hand flicking at the sugar bowl, and suddenly the background noise yielded to the faint whine of a dampening field. “You went into Ops and Fury took you under his wing. I went for STRIKE. It’s not the same.”

“I know STRIKE and ops are different, just look at the way Rumlow and his boys act off duty – “

“That’s not what I meant,” said Rodriguez. She glanced over her shoulder even though there was no chance anyone would understand a word they said. “Romanov and Barton are technically part of STRIKE, or were until the Avengers Initiative went hot during the invasion last year. I’m talking about the Alphas.”

A delivery truck from Lun Fat Groceries, Ltd., rumbled past the café. Sharon pushed her drink aside, suddenly chilled as the vehicle’s massive shadow fell across their sunny table. “The Alphas? Wait a minute, they - Marta. What’s going on?”

A muscle in Rodriguez’ throat worked. “You cannot tell anyone. Not Fury, not Romanov, and especially not Rogers. _No one, Sharon._ Do you understand?”

“No, I don’t.” Sharon carefully leaned over her place setting, holding up one finger to ward off the waitress as she approached with their appetizers. “You know damn well I can’t make a promise like that, at least until I know what’s going on. Spill, or I’m leaving and sticking you with the check.”

Neither moved for a long, long moment. Then Rodriguez blew out a breath. “Need to know _only_ , and you keep me out of it. Rumlow will have my hide if he figures out that we did more than just have lunch. Deal?”

“Deal.” Sharon held up her glass, waited until Rodriguez reluctantly clinked her own glass against the rim. “So. Talk.”

Rodriguez glanced about her even though the distortion field was working perfectly. “It’s Rumlow and Rollins, maybe Suzuki. I’m not sure.” 

“Sure about what?”

“They’re plotting something.” Rodriguez swallowed again, hard enough that it had to hurt. “I don't know the details, don't know what's involved. But I think it’s about you and Rogers.”

“I don’t even talk to Rumlow half the time,” Sharon said. “Why would he and his second whip give a damn about my personal life? Or Steve’s?”

“I didn’t – that’s not what I meant.” Rodriguez visibly steeled herself. “I mean they’re doing something hinky and it seems directed at you and the Captain.”

Sharon did not move. Her appetite for anything other than a very large glass of whiskey had vanished. “How do you know that? 

“Because I overheard them last week, while Rogers was off the rota after that op went south.” Rodriguez waited for Sharon to nod before plunging ahead. “It was the day he ripped the crib apart. We’d just gotten back to New York and the Alphas were in the locker room stowing their gear when I walked in. They didn’t see me right away and – “

She took a long, long pull on her chardonnay. “They didn’t name names. But it’s pretty clear they were talking about Rogers, and probably you. They’re cultivating Neal Tapper for info, too, and there’s no way those lunkheads would have anything to do with him unless they were trying to dig up dirt on either you or Rogers – “

“Ma’am?” The waitron, a delicate young woman who was probably an actress when she wasn’t serving light continental fare to the lunch crowd, cleared her throat loudly enough to penetrate the scrambler. “You ordered the tapenade for two?”

“Oh, sorry.” Sharon flashed her a bright, wide, slightly silly smile. “We were just talking about a guy I’m seeing. Girl stuff, you know.”

“Don’t I ever!” The waitron smiled back as she carefully served a small plate of what smelled like an excellent black olive tapenade and a crusty loaf of bread. “Your salads will be right out. Enjoy!”

“We will!” Sharon gave her a little wave, then signaled for Rodriguez to dig in. Their server was smart, observant, and would wonder why they weren’t eating even though Rodriguez had made a great show of being hungry when they ordered. Rodriguez stared at the bread as if she’d never seem a baguette before, then tore off a piece, shoved it into the tapenade, and took a bite. “Now, what were you saying about that poor kid who let Jack take her to the movies? Who was it, Lillian? Laura?”

“Laura down in Records, and it sounded like a mess – “

The next few minutes were taken up with food and wine and then more food when what was probably a very nice grilled steak salad (Sharon) and a tuna tartare (Rodriguez) arrived. They waited until the waitress had gone off to tend another table to continue.

“It's just getting worse and worse. They're egging Tapper on when he's around, and making fun of him when his back is turned. I - “ Rodriguez scraped up the last of her fish, then dragged her teeth across her lower lip. “They're getting him drunk and pumping him for information on you and the Captain. I don't know why, it could be another stupid bet, but it smells wrong.”

Sharon carefully set down her knife and fork. How many times did she have to tell Neal no, she was not interested, please go away and find someone else before it stuck? “I went out with Neal once, back in November. He was nice enough, but I turned him down for a second date and told him I wasn't interested.”

“I _know_ that, Sharon. So does everyone else.” Rodriguez chewed on a cherry tomato, swallowed, and took a big gulp of her wine. “That's why this thing with STRIKE Alpha is so weird. Tapper's a desk jockey, so what's he doing hanging out with Rumlow in the first place? The only thing they have in common is working for SHIELD.”

“And interfering with my personal life.” Sharon stabbed at the remains of her salad, glared at a particularly recalcitrant piece of arugula, and gave up. “Rumlow barely knows me. Why does he care?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know it’s something bad. Maybe Tapper wanted to know about Cap flipping out in the crib. Maybe Rumlow’s jealous because Cap’s a better strategist.” Rodriguez threw up both hands. “I don’t _know_ , Sharon. That’s the problem. They could be plotting a coup, or they could be planning something out of a stupid rom-com. I just don’t know.”

 _The crib_. Sharon downed the rest of her wine at the memory of Steve, shaking and incoherent, trapped in a nightmare of being back in the ice. Had those meatheads deliberately lowered the temperature? Were they trying to drive Steve crazy? Rumlow swore he didn’t know why it was so cold directly over Steve’s bunk, but – 

“Assholes,” she said at last. “Neal’s acting hinky enough without them egging him on. It’s none of their damn business either way.” 

“I know.” Rodriguez picked at a slub near the hem of the otherwise smoothly woven tablecloth. “Normally I’m pretty tight with Suzuki so I asked him what was what, but he brushed me off. That’s when I got in touch with you. You and your guy need to know what’s going on.”

Sharon couldn’t help the warm, happy glow at having Steve referred to as _your guy_. “Who else knows about Rumlow’s boys? Hill? Romanov?”

Rodriguez had almost worked the slub free. “Not sure. It’s not bad enough to talk to the Old Man, but if he doesn’t already know something’s up I’ll eat his spare eyepatch. Beyond that? No idea.” 

“So what’s next?” Sharon fell silent as the server came up, asked if everything was all right, and cleared their plates. She shook her head at the offer of the dessert menu. “Do I confront them? Tell Fury? Steve already knows Neal Tapper doesn’t like him.”

“I’m not sure,” said Rodriguez. She actually considered the neatly printed list of delights like Our Own Crème Brulee and Decadent Chocolate Fudge Cake with Choice of Ice Cream, then shook her head and set it aside. “I’ll keep my ear to the ground. Just be careful, Sharon. Same goes for Cap. He might be a super soldier but Neal can be plenty sneaky when he’s not drunk.”

“Don’t I know it.” Neal’s crush had been sweet at first – who didn’t like getting flowers at work? – but his refusal to take “no” for an answer had long since passed the line. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll talk to Steve.”

“Good.” Rodriguez shook her head and dropped a couple of twenties on the check before Sharon could extract her wallet from her purse. “No, this one’s on me. You can pay next time.”

Sharon pursed her lips and stood. “I’m getting the tip at least,” she said, and added a tenner to the twenties. “Next time?”

“Oh, absolutely! We really should do this more often.” The faint, almost subliminal buzz of the muffler ended. “You pick next time – two weeks work?”

“That sounds fine,” said Sharon in an equally bright, bouncy, slightly obnoxious tone. “I know a great diner if you like that sort of thing. _Killer_ mushroom burgers – there’s a picture on my Instagram.”

“Sounds yummy. Later!” said Rodriguez, giving Sharon a hug and an air kiss on both cheeks. Sharon returned the gesture, then walked briskly out the door and turned right toward the subway. She wove through a group of high school girls in uniforms that ranged from crisply pressed to rumpled to outright dirty, got two blocks away from the restaurant, and finally pulled out her phone.

“Steve? It’s me.” She paused, unable to suppress a silly grin at hearing his voice. “Yes, I’m fine, lunch was great, say hello to Nat for me.”

She waited until a blind woman, cane tap-tap-tapping on the sidewalk, was well past to continue. “You got a minute, honey? There’s something you need to know – “


End file.
